


Etiquette

by lumenslorebox



Category: Paladins: Champions Of The Realm (Video Game)
Genre: Also Ash is a tailor and a secret agent here, F/F, Tailoring, dressmaking, like she isn't perfect enough already, vague flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 17:36:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20178145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumenslorebox/pseuds/lumenslorebox
Summary: After dealing with the Doomsday threat, Ash had a few days left in Kentucky before she returns to London to rebuild the Kingsmen. As one of the few people in the Kingsmen that can actually tailor, she decides to put her good skills to use and thanks Tyra, one of the Statesmen that she became close confidants with, by making her a suit.[a Kingsman au i started on after watching the golden circle. there might be some spoilers for the kingsman movies.]





	Etiquette

**Author's Note:**

> this is unedited and straight from the google docs so there might be some errors, sorry
> 
> (edit 9/1: fixed inconsistencies and tied up an open sentence i didnt notice earlier.)

Ash’s hotel room has never been a pleasant place – well, it would have been, if only Tyra paid attention to her company, but instead she spends the minute in the elevator up 30 floors thinking about things like what to say or talk about.

The Statesmen’s official time with the Kingsmen are done, now that the threat against their ranks is eliminated and the group can safely rebuild now. Ash is bound to head back to England soon, but not before fixing some unfinished business in Kentucky. From what she had been told by the other few Kingsmen in Ash’s company, she seemed to enjoy the region a lot, and has decided to take a few day-offs to enjoy the culture and spend some more time before heading back to England for good.

And also, there’s the suit.

Like how the Statesmen uses the whiskey distillery as a front for their agency, the Kingsmen uses the front of a tailoring shop to conceal their work. Though unlike here, not all Kingsmen are tailors. The short woman with Ash all the time has some experience, aside from expert gadgetry abilities and impressive aim with a sniper rifle, but doesn’t consider herself good enough for fulltime bespoke. Ash, however, has been tailoring bespoke suits for women clientele before she even began training as a Kingsman.

That’s as much information she has picked up from Ash before she offered Tyra a gift: a bespoke suit, to be made in her last few weeks in Kentucky before she leaves for London. She is still not sure why Ash had offered, but she gleefully accepted. If it meant spending more time with the Kingsman before she leaves, then so be it. And they have spent a good amount of time together, for after the fittings, they usually would go out to explore the southern countryside, a request from Ash that Tyra is happy to fulfill, touring the sharply-dressed woman around for some drinks and attractions around the town.

And to be honest, Tyra does not want it to end. Her stomach sinks at the thought of Ash leaving, but she has to remind herself that there are more things to do than just having the Kingsmen around. After she leaves, she can return to her old, plain life on the distillery, keeping close guard of their property and being sent out on occasional missions—

The elevator dings, signaling that she’s reached the designated floor.

She breathes. It’s the final fitting. And as Ash had told her a few weeks back, may be her last week before she flies back to London, where she is to rebuild the Kingsmen’s old glory, starting with the actual store. A part of her hurts upon the news, but a part of her is a little happy that Ash had set aside time to make this for her.

She enters the hotel room after setting in her biometrics on the hidden latch, and she’s greeted with Ash in her casuals – if dress pants with suspenders over a button shirt is casual. She’s wearing a strange, semi-transparent embroidered jacket that is probably meant more for a party, but Ash is just in her hotel room, so Tyra assumes it’s Ash’s chance to wear whatever she wants. Ash eyes Tyra from head to toe almost just as meticulously, the odd, loud sound effects and music coming from the laptop she is ignoring.

“Did the Statesmen had a party I didn’t know about? Missions lately? Change of diet?”

The question took Tyra off-guard. “None that I’m aware of.”

“I don’t even have to touch you to know you’ve lost weight.” Ash frowns. “Did something happen?”

“Nothing.” It’s the truth. She sets her bag down. “Probably just got busy with some errands around the distillery.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” Ash says, closing her laptop shut and effectively muting the sound effects. “I finished the suit a few days ago. If we did it right, this will be the last fitting, but if you lost too much weight we need to readjust.”

“Do I still have a chance to avail of your wonderful services?” Tyra laughs. “You’re leaving, remember?”

“Sewing machines exist,” Ash says, laughing as she leads Tyra through a series of rooms, finally stopping in a fancier room with a covered mirror and a few closets around. “It’s just adjustments, and I can do them fast. The last thing I want is for that suit to leave this room and it doesn’t fit you well, because I will be the one blamed when you end up looking like a potato.”

“Well, I won’t have to wear your suit then.” The joke comes out almost naturally. “I already do look quite like a vegetable.”

Ash seems taken aback and seems to pause to backpedal with her words. “No, wait, sorry, I didn’t intend to suggest—”

“You’re very easy to upset, huh?” Tyra laughs. Ash is always like this – on the edge, and seemingly nervous or ready to pounce at the smallest threat. She’s a little happy that tailoring seems to be a great way to take matters off her mind for a few moments.

“No, I… It was very rude of me to make comments like that.” Ash pauses, hand on a closet door. “Sorry.”

Ash doesn’t let Tyra answer as she enters the closet, presumably to fetch the finished suit. Which leaves Tyra some time to explore the space. Across the covered mirror is a set of plush couches, where Tyra remembers she was brought nearby when Ash brought her in for measuring.

“I’m coming out,” Ash says from inside the closet space. “Don’t look, I want this to be a surprise!”

The statesman scoffs and indulges her, choosing to look away as Ash comes out. “You know I’ve seen this before, right?” The Kingsman comes out with a very audible slam of the closet door, and Tyra could hear Ash stepping back to grab the knob and gently ease the door back to closing.

“Now uh… can you just…” Ash comes close, but Tyra can hear her hesitate.

“What do I do—” Tyra was confused for a second, before realizing what she is to do. “Oh. Oh… wait a second.”

Fitting sessions, of course, involve Tyra undressing. At least, to some degree. Tyra has never really grown accustomed to it, but with Ash looking it's easy to forget. She shyly peels her vest off, and smooths over her shirt as she takes it off, with Ash handing her a new one, a dark red button-down that's clean and a little more form-fitting than Tyra is accustomed to. 

As Ash carefully fitted the suit jacket on her, she felt the kingsman pause as she ran her hands over the jacket to smooth it over her waist, with her feeling a little too close as if settling herself in the distance. Confused, Tyra looks down, only to find her paused over her pocket.

For a few moments, Ash remains unmoved, her hands remain wrapped around her. She shoots a glance at Tyra, but quickly looks away as if nothing happened, quickly busying herself with her suit buttons and smoothing out the pockets with the steamer iron, almost with increasing urgency. She doesn’t say a single word, but Tyra felt as if Ash is avoiding her gaze or avoiding saying or doing something.

Has she done something wrong? Is this whole affair not as satisfying as Ash had anticipated? She doesn’t even know why Ash had decided she wanted to make her a suit. It couldn’t just be out of the kindness of her heart, or because she looked pathetic trying to dress better. She could not really tell Ash that _ she _was the reason why she even attempted to put together an outfit, why she looked like someone from the mafia in the next day they saw each other. A bespoke suit was never something she thought she would invest in, even if her salary as a Statesman could more than cover it.

But Ash tailoring a suit for her? How could she refuse? It was already a surprise to find out Ash could _ tailor. _It was already a surprise to come in the hotel room to find out she wears hoodies and band t-shirts too. It was even more a surprise that Ash, such a perfect, polished agent, would even bother to do this for free just for her.

But… Ash wants to say something else, and she could feel it.

“You know, this may be the last time we see each other in a long while.” Tyra breaks the silence, looking down as the kingsman obsesses over smoothing over her suit. “If there’s something you need to say, now’s the time.”

A second or so passes, as Ash merely stepped farther to pick up the tie from the table, putting down the steamer iron before she steps closer to raise the collar to loop the tie around her neck. “There’s nothing I want to discuss.”

“Really?” Ash is now around eye level, and Tyra attempts to establish eye contact as she comes close to secure her tie. “Because earlier you seem to want to say something.”

Ash pats down the collar one last time. “Do Americans really read too much into awkward silences, or is it just you?”

“Do Kingsmen just avoid important topics, or it’s just you?”

Ash sighs, and pauses as she walks around Tyra, checking out her handiwork. “It’s not appropriate,” Ash says, as she walks away to pick up a pair of shoes. “Unprofessional, you could say.”

She gestures to a nearby couch, asking Tyra to sit. A shoebox sits beside the couch with a logo she could not name. Probably a fancy brand of shoes.

“I can do that on my own,” Tyra says.

“These are unlaced Oxfords.” Ash knelt, despite Tyra’s complains, opening the shoebox to reveal unlaced dress shoes. “May be the only time someone kneels in front of you.”

Tyra relents, remembering how she laces her dress shoes like she would her tennis shoes. Ash will probably not like that. So, she watches Ash as she carefully takes out a pair of thin, round yellow shoelaces and began lacing the Oxfords with the utmost care. It is almost as hypnotizing as watching her draw up patterns or sew, and almost as entrancing as watching her fight. She is not even dressed in a suit right now, just wearing a plain white shirt with suspenders attached on obviously dirty pair of dress pants, and somehow she is still a sight to behold.

And then Ash speaks, but she couldn’t quite catch it, as she hasn’t really taken her attention off the shoes. Something about derbies and brogues, whatever those are. She shifts to the other pair and doesn’t pause as she kept talking about lacing brogues and tennis shoes. Her voice sounded like she can recite the entire phonebook in a deadpan note and she will probably still be attentive.

She only stops speaking when she raises Tyra’s foot, slipping a pair of mustard yellow socks on both feet. If this is what it feels to be a princess, Tyra greatly would like to be a princess if she would be dressed in suits like this everyday. Ash seems to pause for a few moments, adjusting the fit of the sock suspenders – a thing Tyra didn’t know existed until today – before finally loosening the Oxfords’ laces to fit her foot in. It’s almost odd, magical even, on how one person can give so much attention to putting shoes on someone.

“Now, since we’re here…” Ash breaks the monotone, fitting and tying both shoes on and letting Tyra stand up to walk around and test the fit. “You said this might be the last time I can talk to you.”

Tyra takes a few steps around. The shoes feel amazing, and perhaps be the best first steps in a new shoe she’s had. “Yeah?”

“It’s… well, it’s unprofessional, so I hope we’re still friends after this.” She walks to the covered mirror, hands over the cloth over it. “But before that, do you want to see how you look?”

“Of course.”

Ash pulls the cloth off the full-length mirror, almost a little too dramatically.

“Oh.”

What had greeted her by the mirror is a spitting image of a more confident her, wearing an orange suit jacket with a black notched lapel. The color choice is interesting -- she’s seen flashes of it as Ash had worked, but Tyra did not expect for the _ entire suit _to be orange, save for the black trim in the sleeves and the collar. 

She twirls like she would in a dress, finding the entire suit fitting so well, and yet so eerily comfortable. Raising her arms and testing how she looked, feeling the back on how well and oddly comfortable she is… it’s just… strange.

“Oh, this is beautiful.” She feels her back, on how the cloth had somehow successively accentuated her best bodily features. “You know what you’re doing to make me look great.”

A small shy smile surfaces on Ash’s face. “Some say tailors know their clients’ bodies better than their spouses or mothers do.” She sighs, and smiles, looking at Tyra – either admiring her own handiwork or admiring Tyra herself. 

It takes a while, a few moments of watching her inspect the detailing of the suit, before she speaks again, eyes still on Tyra.“I knew a lot about you in the few months we have worked together, and in the weeks I’ve made this for you, but—”

Tyra raises an eyebrow. “Are you disappointed that I’m such a mystery?”

The confident kingsman almost instantly steps back. “Y—No! I just—” She clears her throat and stands up a little straighter. “I saw you trying to dress up better when we saw each other the week after I arrived, and knowing you now, I don’t know why you thought it was necessary to dress better, you look really good even way before you dressed in suits--”

Oh. Well. She literally did that for Ash, anyway, hoping that dressing better would catch her attention. Tyra is still unsure if it worked like how she expected it to be, but it did catch Ash’s attention, the odd vintage styling catching the tailor’s attention. 

“It’s not because of your group why I started dressing nice, you know.” It’s a half-truth at most. She has been a fan of suits for a long while, however she was never really certain of the kind. Upon laying eyes on the Kingsmen, she knew their look was what she wanted… and the Kingsman herself was only icing to the already wondrous cake, with the sharp visage and the steely glare that as puncturing as a bullet.

Surprisingly, none of that sharpness is seen now. “I’m sorry, we—no, I -- was assuming you were… trying to get a sense of your fashion style, and I was very confused why, since you already seem to dress so concisely... I should have just asked.”

“No, I really love this, trust me!” Tyra comes close to Ash, trying her damnest to reassure her. But Ash seems… embarrassed about not asking. And so Tyra speaks again, letting the truth spill. “I… I saw you, actually.”

“What?”

“You were the first one who came in to talk to us about the whole Doomsday thing, and the second you walked in that room, I just decided you were something I wanted to be-- It’s hard to describe, I—”

“_ What.” _

Tyra steps back a little, but then she looks at Ash, and she looked... embarrassed? Shy? 

And then Ash just… bursts into laughter, having ignored all etiquette Tyra knew the Kingsmen had. “Oh my god, you’re such a _ fool. _ I… me? What the hell did you _ see?” _

“Well, I--” Tyra almost feels embarrassed, but she admits it -- Ash looks good. She feels good to be around, and she doesn’t feel at all bad that Ash is technically laughing at her now. “You looked really nice that I agreed to being roasted about my formal attire because… well, I wanted to be like you.”

Ash is still lost in her fit of laughter, and took a few moments to breathe and to be able to speak coherent sentences. “The Kingsmen are posh weirdos,” Ash finally says, in-between breathy laughter. “We look good, but trust me when I say we’re not the best people.”

“I’d believe that if you aren’t standing right in front of me.”

Ash looks down, obviously desperate to hide her embarrassment. It takes her a few moments to answer. “I’m new in the group, so I’m not exactly a prime Kingsman yet.”

Tyra remembers her mentioning that Ash only got accepted as an agent after certain events in the last year, but to her it doesn’t really sound like a bad way to recruit someone. And of course, the entire reason she’s here is due to the Kingsmen’s doomsday -- with Ash returning to London, Tyra’s sure she’d be the one to lead the new generation of agents now that the older, stuffy ones are gone. “Well, the others are gone now, so I guess you’re _ the _prime Kingsman now.”

She hears Ash chuckle. “After everyone else got decimated, huh?” Ash steps closer, and adjusts Tyra’s collars, flattening and smoothing things a few more times. “I guess that’s my luck. Wouldn’t be here otherwise.” 

The silence kept on as Ash smooths over the suit with her hands, and for a moment, she was satisfied with watching Ash be very meticulous about the smallest details. Something about her focus and attention to details is admirable.

“Am I that impressive? I suppose I am, since you did make me a suit.”

Ash takes out a tie pin from her pocket and secures Tyra’s tie in place -- it’s gold and matched the orange color scheme. “You didn’t need to try too hard, Tyra.” Ash looks up after securing the tie in place. “Your old outfit was fine.”

Tyra remembers the outfits she’s worn before Ash walked in -- they’re mostly dirty suits that get washed once a week, because unlike the other agents, she was more focused on their cover as a distillery than actually getting into missions for the Statesmen. The few missions she does every month as an agent were not as clean either -- unlike the Kingsmen, there’s no etiquette in the Statesmen about killing someone, and oftentimes her suits suffer the fate of being crusted in blood or body pieces and they were just never washed after that.

After seeing Ash, she actually tried to clean her suits, and showed up to work the next day with an obviously cleaner set. It wasn’t much, but the change did catch Ash’s attention, Tyra thinks. “There’s only so much I can do with my fashion choices. You _ tailor, _ for fuck’s sake, how am I supposed to impress a _ tailor? _”

“You didn’t need me, honestly. You were already impressive.” It’s hard to describe the sparkle on Ash’s eyes right now. “Even before you went out dressed like the mafia. It’s cute.” 

“Hey!” Tyra tried her best to sound insulted, but she is being betrayed by the dumb smile on her face. “We only had old files of your lot. Not a lot of source material to go with.”

“Want me to send you a couple of newer catalogs now that we’re technically in the same posh agent group now?”

“I’ll think about it,” Tyra says. “I don’t want anyone else outdressing me when you return here.”

The smile on Ash’s face is surprisingly inviting and friendly. “With that suit, you’ve already outdressed every Statesman.”

“That proud of your work, Kingsman?” Fuck, Tyra can’t stop herself from smiling. She’s staring so hard at Ash now. She watches her eyes move, how she smiles. The suit is pretty but the tailor who made it sure is prettier. 

“Like I said, didn’t even need to make you a suit,” Ash says, “but I like seeing you wear something I made.” Ash steps close, puts both hands on Tyra’s waist, this time not flattening or smoothing out anything. She pauses for a few moments before talking again. 

“Do you want to test something real quick with me? There’s a thing some Italians do with their suits called the hug test…” Tyra can see where this is going, but she lets Ash finish, watching the Kingsman try to reason. “Your suit passes their standards if you’re able to initiate a hug with someone without the sleeves being too tight around the armpit.”

Tyra could not help but laugh. The kingsmen are truly something with their manners and etiquette. “Ash, if you want a hug, you can just ask.”

“Yes, sure, but it’s hitting two birds with one stone. As you Americans call it, at least.” Ash avoids eye contact Tyra was seeking, and a few moments passed before she asks again. “So, do you want a hug or not?”

“Why not?” The statesman opens her arms, inviting the Kingsman in. “Come here.”

Ash is a few inches taller than Tyra, and it becomes quite apparent when she comes close and wraps her arms around her, feeling her hands find places around her torso like it’s charted territory she is returning to. Tyra obliges with the test and the hug and situates her arms around Ash and her hands on her back, resting her head on her shoulder and getting a whiff of whatever scent she is wearing, smelling of metal and wood. She feels Ash hum against her, and she gives her back a couple of pats, a gesture that is weird but oddly comforting. 

The hug lasted a few more moments, a little longer than necessary. Then again, none of them really tried to let go, at least, for those few seconds, and Tyra is happy at that. Ash smells really good. And she’s so oddly comforting and _ soft. _

Ash eventually pulls away, and for a few moments Tyra felt like going back in, but she remembers -- she has no damn clue on the Kingsmen etiquette, or on how long these hug suit tests were supposed to be or how they even work. Maybe that was the standard hug length. Maybe Americans like her just had awkwardly short hugs. 

She tries to get rid of her thoughts, and focuses on Ash, still quite close, hand still on Tyra’s back. She looks down, still a reasonably close distance from her, watching her either take glances of her tie or her lips. 

“So, how was it?” Ash pauses, before making herself clear. She glances up. “The suit, I mean.” 

Tyra almost forgot why the hug was even initiated. Even then, she felt no discomfort. She nods with a smile. “Well-crafted,” Tyra says, “just like the woman before me.” 

Ash turns almost as red as her suspenders. It’s really cute, and she’s pretty sure it’s not Kingsman etiquette to feel flattered about flirting from an ally. Tyra relishes the thought a little, before finding it too hard to resist to kiss the Kingsman, hopefully seeing more of her.


End file.
